The Fallen Film Queen’s Possessive Alpha - Chapter 54

In February, Song Haoyin began preparations for her new film. Over the past month, she had spent most of her time with Zhou Qiwei.

The newly appointed director of Kyushu Enterprises, Zhou, had raised the banner of “poor me,” deploying puppy-dog eyes as her weapon. Song Haoyin was utterly defenseless, letting Zhou cling to her as she pleased.

Not that Miss Song minded.

Amid her busy schedule, she still found time to have a meal with her younger sister, Ange, checking in on her studies and personal life.

Thanks to Zhou Qiwei, Song Ange was now fully immersed in setting up the York Institute and diving into cutting-edge research on artificial pheromones. Though she barely had time to catch her breath, she was radiant with energy much like how Song Haoyin looked when engrossed in filming. It made Haoyin sigh wistfully. If their mother were still here, she would have been delighted to see Ange like this.

“Are you really that busy?”

During their meal, Ange’s phone kept buzzing with notifications. She gave an apologetic smile and turned off the alerts. “Yeah, it’s pretty hectic. My senior has completely stepped back. Director Xuan is guiding me at York, while President Du handles things at Rubik’s Cube. Ugh, Sis, is my senior really just busy dating you?”

Song Haoyin tilted her chin slightly, signaling Ange to look behind her. On the restaurant’s TV screen, Zhou Qiwei suddenly appeared.

A new round of military inhibitor tenders had begun, and Zhou had been so busy that dark circles had formed under her eyes. The person on screen now was clearly wearing a heavy layer of concealer.

In the interview, Zhou Qiwei was answering questions financial talk shows always pre-approved their questions with interviewees, meaning everything being asked had her consent.

“My senior has really mellowed out,” Ange remarked, spearing a piece of fish with her fork. The sweet, fresh flavor filled her mouth.

Song Haoyin propped her chin on her hand, watching as her girlfriend calmly explained Rubik’s Cube’s routine participation in military procurement and openly discussed Kyushu’s affairs.

“I have no intention of inheriting Kyushu Enterprises not in the past, not now, and not for at least the next twenty years.”

“There are so many things I want to do, like Rubik’s Cube’s public health initiatives on pheromone awareness, research on specific pheromone or gland-related disorders, and certain medical projects,” Zhou said with ease. “They already take up most of my time. I don’t have the energy to spare for Kyushu.”

“Besides, the average lifespan now exceeds a hundred years. Madam Zhou is still in her prime there’s no need to rush the succession question.”

The host listened attentively, then smiled and asked, “So what do you do with the remaining time? Focus on your personal life?”

“Well…” The woman on screen chuckled sheepishly, even blushing a little. “The rest of the time, I’m in a relationship. It’s very important to me.”

“My girlfriend is an incredibly wonderful person. If not for her, I wouldn’t have agreed to this interview, nor would I be sitting here so calmly discussing these matters. So, I have to make time for her. The thought of her liking someone else because I didn’t do enough that’s just terrifying.”

Song Ange suddenly found the seafood in her mouth tasting off was it… sour? She glanced at her sister, who was now cupping her cheeks, gazing at the TV with hearts in her eyes.

Am I just part of some long-distance roleplay between you two?!

Zhou Qiwei wasn’t just speaking impulsively. For a long time after the New Year, she had been feeling quite depressed.

She didn’t want to take over Jiuzhou, but Madam Zhou had resorted to an extremely shameless “thick-skinned” strategy. She simply assigned the bidding work to Zhou Qiwei, knowing that by doing these tasks well, Zhou would naturally build her own team and influence.

Her sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow Zhou Qiwei to slack off at work, so this situation left her feeling trapped.

Just when she was feeling miserable, Song Haoyin, who had heard about the Zhou family’s messy history, felt particularly heartbroken for her girlfriend.

One day after the New Year holiday, as Zhou Qiwei lay sprawled on the carpet in frustration, Song Haoyin lay down beside her and asked a question:

“Is your aversion to Jiuzhou because of your family?”

But Zhou Qiwei gave an unexpected answer:

It wasn’t Jiuzhou she disliked she despised all excessively large corporate conglomerates.

Ah, so it was a conflict of principles. Understanding this, Song Haoyin immediately came up with a radical solution for her beloved:

Zhou Qiwei should publicly declare she wouldn’t choose to inherit Jiuzhou and had no interest in the succession rights.

The corporate world was different from show business. For public figures in entertainment, their personal statements sometimes didn’t matter much. But in other fields, the parties’ declarations carried significant weight. After Zhou’s statement, the number of people in the company trying to curry favor or become “dragon-slaying heroes” would drastically decrease.

Once her work was done, Zhou Qiwei could immediately find another project to distance herself from Jiuzhou.

However, choosing not to inherit Jiuzhou didn’t mean relinquishing her inheritance rights.

This approach would leave Zhou Qiwei an escape route while saving face for the Zhou family a mutual compromise. Song Haoyin knew Madam Zhou would understand perfectly well that pushing her youngest daughter too hard would yield no good results.

As for how the Zhou family and Zhou Mu would reconcile their relationship. what did that have to do with her Qiwei?

Was even giving up the family fortune considered wrong?

According to Song Haoyin’s prediction, the Zhou family’s moral standards weren’t quite that progressive yet.

During the New Year, Du Xin had told Song Haoyin about inheritance disputes in the Zhou family’s history.

“It was extremely ugly the Zhou family nearly split apart. In the end, some died, others left, and those who remained had to pick up the pieces. It took two generations to recover.”

“If Madam Zhou wants to change successors, she must act now to help Qiwei establish her own power base and quickly push Zhou Mu out.”

Song Haoyin couldn’t understand between mother and daughter, what couldn’t be said directly? Even if Qiwei and Madam Zhou had issues, surely Zhou Mu and Madam Zhou could communicate properly.

Du Xin understood her perspective but explained: “Haoyin, Jiuzhou represents relationships accumulated over dozens of generations. The power held by its master exceeds ordinary imagination. Just in terms of wealth, the assets a Jiuzhou master can mobilize likely amount to trillions.”

That surpassed a medium-sized country’s economy.

Currently, Jiuzhou’s largest shareholder on paper was the Jiuzhou-Zhou Foundation, but the foundation was solely controlled by the Zhou family’s direct lineage. At its core, it remained a bloodline-based family enterprise, despite its modern appearance.

For an organization of such massive scale and complexity, the requirements for successors were extraordinarily high.

It’s not that an average heir is unacceptable. Zhou Qing once joked self-deprecatingly that she herself was a very mediocre successor.

But the premise was that Zhou Qing was an only child, with no other siblings. Precisely because of this, her wife chose Du Ning—someone from a clean family background and an academic prodigy.

This choice injected fresh blood into the Zhou family while minimizing the risks Zhou Qing might face. It was also a gamble on the “genetic mutation” of future heirs.

Du Ning gave up her career aspirations, using her intellect to help Zhou Qing stabilize the situation and navigate political and business relationships. As a result, they were always busy extremely busy. Excessive material comforts were tightly intertwined with unavoidable regrets, a lifestyle Zhou Qiwei absolutely despised.

“But just because Qiwei doesn’t want it doesn’t mean others don’t. Among those ‘others’ are Zhou Mu and countless others who covet Jiuzhou enough to form a line stretching all the way to the capital’s special district.”

“Having been groomed as an heir for over a decade, despite constant murmurs that Zhou Zhao was the better choice, Zhou Mu had still built up considerable connections.”

“It’s not that negotiations are impossible, but no one can control the outcome. Rather than gambling on probabilities, it’s better to first eliminate Zhou Mu from the game, neutralize her influence, and then offer appeasement.”

Song Haoyin understood treat Zhou Mu as an enemy first, then as a daughter. This kind of cold calculation was everywhere, no wonder Zhou Qiwei hated it.

“Sis?”

Her younger sister pulled her thoughts back to the present. Right now, she was still having lunch with An Ge. The interview on TV had ended, but Song Haoyin suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to see Zhou Qiwei right this moment.

Zhou Qiwei really wanted to see her girlfriend.

The interview had been broadcast live, and as soon as it ended, a call came in from Jiuzhou Group’s headquarters. Her secretary informed her that Zhou Qing was furious.

So what if she was angry? Was Zhou Qiwei supposed to be afraid of her temper?

Over the years, she had provoked Zhou Qing to the point of speechlessness, even to emotional breakdowns where she screamed about cutting ties. It wasn’t anything new.

But this time, Madam Zhou didn’t lose her temper. On the other end of the line, she sounded utterly heartbroken.

“Don’t be like this,” Zhou Qiwei stammered awkwardly, trying to console her. “Talk things out with Zhou Mu. If you drag me into this, aren’t you afraid I’ll dismantle Jiuzhou someday?”

“Besides, at Rubik’s Cube, I’m the founder. At Jiuzhou, I’d have to kowtow to others.”

As for how Zhou Qing the “others” in Zhou Qiwei’s words felt about that, Zhou Qiwei couldn’t care less. She had said her piece.

Listening to the dial tone, Zhou Qing called her eldest daughter instead, sacrificing Zhou Zhao’s rare lunch break to her mother’s woes.

Zhou Qing lamented to her daughter over the phone, “I know I shouldn’t expect anything from Qiwei, but I ” She had made this decision with great resolve.

Now, here they were. Qiwei had outright rejected any claim to succession, and with Zhou Mu, the die was already cast her position had been revoked.

A complete failure on both fronts.

“I’m almost sixty, retirement is nowhere in sight, and the burden just keeps piling up.” Zhou Qing’s bitterness was immeasurable.

Yet no matter how bitter, Zhou Qing had no regrets a fact both mother and daughter knew all too well.

Zhou Zhao rubbed her temples, sinking into the plush sofa in her office, letting the soft material envelop her. She listened to her mother’s grievances, unsure of what to say. She had her own mountain of troubles to deal with.

On Valentine’s Day, she arranged to meet Ji Xubai. The two drank a bottle of brandy together, the atmosphere turning ambiguous, nearly rolling into bed at Ji Xubai’s place.

“Nearly” meant it didn’t actually happen.

Because Ji Xubai looked at Zhou Zhao with tender eyes and told her that this very bed had once been shared with Leliana.

She even asked Zhou Zhao if she wanted to try something special, as ordinary methods could hardly excite her anymore.

At that moment, Zhou Zhao seriously considered jumping straight from the 17th floor.

When she saw the scars on Ji Xubai’s body, she wanted to ask why she was treating herself this way… but the words never left her lips.

After a long silence, she tucked Ji Xubai in and left her home.

Among their family, only Qiwei’s romantic path seemed relatively smooth. Hopefully, it would remain stable.

As April arrived and temperatures gradually rose, so did Zhou Qiwei’s spirits.

March had kept her busy dealing with the Rubik’s Cube-Jiuzhou bidding issues, while Song Haoyin started filming her new drama. They struggled to even meet their daily goal of sharing meals.

Throughout March, they’d only seen each other four times averaging once a week.

They did make numerous phone calls, but calls alone couldn’t extinguish the burning passion between young lovers. Especially after one particular phone sex session where Song Haoyin, in every sense, lost face completely. In a fit of anger, she forbade Zhou Qiwei from calling again.

How adorable.

On the first Sunday of April, Zhou Qiwei sat at the edge of the film set, watching her girlfriend act in person.

“Today’s a crucial scene. Don’t reveal yourself and affect her performance,” Qu Yuanzhi reminded her dozens of times before adding, “It’s really an important scene.”

Wearing a baseball cap to conceal her face, Zhou Qiwei surveyed the abandoned building and wrecked vehicles below, curiously asking, “Is it an explosion scene?”

“Well, about that.” Qu Yuanzhi scratched her head, casually changing the subject. “You’ll find out soon.” She began directing the cameramen to prepare the shooting tracks and routes. “Everyone, let’s try to get this in one take!”

Yuanbao commenced final preparations while Zhou Qiwei observed the entire scene from behind the cameras.

The gray abandoned building stood at the edge of the set, surrounded by randomly placed wrecked vehicles in monochrome tones. Other than explosions, Zhou Qiwei couldn’t imagine what other important scene could be filmed in such a location.

The mystery was soon revealed when Yuanbao’s voice came through the spare walkie-talkie: “Testing? Can everyone hear me? All departments, attention. Captain Liu is about to attempt the first fall. I need complete silence from all departments so I can edit the best silent version.”

What did she mean by “fall”?

Who was Captain Liu?

Zhou Qiwei’s mind flooded with questions until she finally remembered the female lead Song Haoyin played was a former captain in the military.

Wait, did that mean Song Haoyin was going to fall?!

“What exactly are you filming?!”

An assistant director hurried over to calm Zhou Qiwei down. “Please don’t get agitated. If this take doesn’t work, Haoyin will have to do it again.”

Zhou Qiwei steadied herself against the table, not looking at the assistant as she replied, “I won’t disrupt her filming. I already know what scene she’s shooting.”

On the fourth floor of the abandoned building, Song Haoyin’s figure appeared. In the camera feed, she wore a tattered flight jacket and a baseball cap also borrowed from Zhou Qiwei’s closet. Under these circumstances, finding her girlfriend wearing her hat left Zhou Qiwei with indescribable emotions.

Soon, Qu Yuanzhi’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie again: “Captain Liu, get ready. Props team, final check!”

“Props team clear!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

Song Haoyin engaged in combat, then leaped from the fourth-floor window, gripping the building’s exterior protrusions before smashing through the broken third-floor glass.

Inside the third floor, she continued fighting until outnumbered and forced toward the window.

Zhou Qiwei leaned forward, eyes locked on the camera feed as Song Haoyin grabbed an enemy, using them as a human cushion when they both plummeted through the window and crashed onto a car roof.

The assistant director cautiously glanced at Zhou Qiwei: “President Zhou, would you like to check on Haoyin-jie?”

The sickening thud of a body hitting metal from the camera feed a sound Zhou Qiwei knew all too well.

In submarines, people often bumped and bruised themselves. And then there were the sounds of falling corpses.

“Tell Director Qu I had to leave.” Dizzy spells made it impossible to stay. Zhou Qiwei didn’t trust herself to properly care for Song Haoyin now.

The car roof now bore a dent.

Song Haoyin lay there recovering as the medical team swarmed around her: “Don’t move. Miss Song, can you identify these numbers?”

“3… 8… 5.” Her responses came slowly but accurately.

Qu Yuanzhi shouted to the props team while approaching: “Get that dummy down! Don’t move Haoyin yet, take it slow!”

The “enemy” had been an ultra-realistic dummy reducing injury risks while providing cushioning that absorbed most impact when Song Haoyin landed on it.

After completing concussion protocols, they carefully helped her down and rushed her back to the hotel.

With the crucial scene completed, Qu Yuanzhi relaxed until the assistant director mentioned Zhou Qiwei’s departure.

Her phone showed a lone message: [Sports rehab specialist en route. Make sure she rests.]

Unaware of the reason, Qu Yuanzhi kept Zhou Qiwei’s visit secret only for Song Haoyin to insist: “Don’t tell Qiwei about this.”

“Huh?”

Song Haoyin didn’t elaborate, shielding her eyes from the light as she willed the dizziness away.

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